


His Milkshake (Brings All the Boys To the Yard)

by AdelineAround



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom Connor, Connor with Breasts, Deepthroating, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Milkshakes, Oral Sex, Post-Revolution, Power Bottom Connor, Summer Love, Titjob, Top Hank, belly bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineAround/pseuds/AdelineAround
Summary: Connor buys a chest-part upgrade, and has Hank test it out.





	His Milkshake (Brings All the Boys To the Yard)

**Author's Note:**

> You guys already know I'm not vanilla in the slightest.  
> Enjoy your milkshakes, everyone.

_My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard_  
And they’re like, it’s better than yours  
Damn right, it’s better than yours  
I can teach you, but I have to charge 

“Connor!” The RK800 android whips his head around, only to be faced with Hank’s grumpy face. The man has already toed off his shoes, shuffling into the living room before giving Connor a skeptical look. “What the fuck are you listening to?”

Pausing the music, Connor gets up from his seat. He smiles at the lieutenant, dusting off his shirt of any dog hair. Sumo huffs in the corner, yawning once. It is like he is offended Connor doesn’t like keeping dog fur on his clothing.

“Welcome back, Hank,” he says, knowledgeable enough to call the man by his given name instead of his work title when Hank is at home. “I believe I was listening to a song called ‘My Milkshake’ by the artist Kelis,”

Hank is nonplussed by Connor’s matter-of-fact attitude. He peels off his shirt, saying, “Well, it’s not worth listening to all the way, trust me.” Connor watches the lieutenant undress as he continues, “It’s so hot outside. Damn summers get warmer and warmer each year,”

At Hank’s complaint, Connor has nothing to say. However, seeing Hank stripping before him brings a one-syllable word from his mouth, “Oh,”

Hank looks hot. Connor realizes that “hot” is such a vague term; Hank Anderson is half naked in front of him on the couch, the thick scent of his musk and sweat hitting Connor’s nasal sensors, and it makes Connor’s thirium pump want to do a double-flip. All theoretically, of course- in conclusion, Connor thinks Hank is “fucking sexy” with his shirt off.

Quickly, Connor recalibrates himself, though there is a steady growth in his nether regions. He decides to ignore it.

“Why do you insist I should not finish the song?” he tries again.

Hank sighs. “Because, it reminds me too much of my younger days.” He pauses before adding, “And it talks about something you wouldn’t understand.”

Connor makes a mental note to check the song’s meaning again, but continues his questionnaire, “Do you not like milkshakes, Hank?” In the back of his mind, he knows the data he collected is correct, meaning he knows what Kelis is actually singing about.

Hank almost drops the TV remote control in his hand. He fumbles with it, turning the power on so the TV is showing a broadcast of the Michigan Wolverines’ away game. He sets the remote down on a sofa arm, as to keep it from rolling away again.

“I like milkshakes _plenty_ , Connor.” Hank asks, eyes narrowing, “What are you trying to get at?”

Connor diverts his eyes elsewhere, a guilty grin on his face. “Well,” he starts. “I was wondering if you would like to try one of my milkshakes.”

When he looks at the lieutenant again, the man is gawking at him. Connor quickly scans Hank; his vitals are normal, though pulse heightened due to the incredible heat outside. There is sweat forming on his brow, but nothing else looks out of place. Connor tilts his head to the side, wondering if he had said something wrong.

Or maybe he had said something _right_ , because all Hank does is visibly deflate on the sofa, a soft blush creeping into his cheeks.

It is a good thing Connor has prepared for this moment. He smiles wider. Everything is going according to plan.

“Connor, what the hell did you do this time?” is all Hank says.

Here is your moment, Connor. Show him what you have deduced from his porn site search; the android musters up the pre-constructed routine he has put together within the last hour.

“You left your browser open the other night,” Connor begins, moving to the kitchen to pluck the milkshake mix from the fridge, as he had made it just minutes before Hank arrived home.

He lifts up his shirt, pressing on his chest plate so it opens and retracts with a hydraulic hiss. Hank is not looking for him from the living room, being as stubborn as he is. Connor smirks; there was a fifty percent chance that he would not be watched by Hank, to which he has expected.

“I was curious to see what your fantasies entailed, Hank,” he continues, while pouring the dairy product through a funnel and into the tubes flowing towards the inside of his chest plate. He can feel the bio-pouches fill with milkshake, his chest now feeling fuller than they ever have in his life. It is an… interesting feeling, but not one that makes Connor uncomfortable.

Hank groans, “Oh, no, Connor. You didn’t just look into my porn search,”

Connor suppresses a chuckle that threatens to bubble from his voice box. “I have to admit, I hadn’t thought Hank Anderson would have such a specific kink.”

When he is done filling his bio-pouches to capacity, Connor twists the funnel off of the tubes and discards it into the kitchen sink; along with it goes the milkshake container. The tubes retract then, allowing his chestpiece to click shut once again. Now that he is done, Connor can give Hank a show.

“No peeking,” Connor says, noticing Hank not-so-discreetly turning his head to see what Connor is up to. He saunters back to the living room. “I want you to be good for me and stay on the couch until I tell you to move.”

He can hear Hank gulp audibly, much to his advantage. A spark of satisfaction zaps through his cortex; this time, he is in charge of the scene, when Hank has been the one to control it in the past.

Connor makes his way to the middle of the living room, careful not to block the TV screen. He knows how he looks, clad in one of Hank’s oversized sleep shirts and boxers that are a little too wide for his slim build. Connor looks like the definition of domestic to Hank, which heightens the man’s stats further.

“Do you like what you see, Hank?” Connor questions, pulling at the hem of his shirt. He lowers his face just a little bit to accentuate his brown eyes. They stare at Hank, lust swirling in the irises, pupils blown wide to show how much he wants the man.

Hank manages to mutter, “I-I do, Connor, but I don’t see what the fuckin’ point of all this is-“ His breath hitches when he witnesses the android lift the sleep shirt partially, exposing a lean slip of bare abdomen.

Connor rolls his head a bit, reaching down to palm at the growing half chub in his boxers. He watches Hank with a hawk’s eye, drinking him in as the man drools on himself.

“Do you want me to come closer?” He keeps up his game, unmoving until Hank nods in confirmation. He does not move from where he sits, earning him brownie points. “Good, then…”

Connor sways his hips purposefully as he puts one foot in front of the other, hands dropping so he can place them at the boxer’s waistband; he shimmies out of the boxers, letting the now offensive article of clothing drop to the floor. He steps out of them effortlessly as he travels to the couch, grinning until he is showing his pearly whites.

Hank’s eyes go wide at that, gaze focused on Connor’s standing erection. He is beginning to tent one himself, blood rushing so quickly to his cock that Hank must be getting dizzy just thinking about it.

“No, don’t just look there,” Connor commands, voice so low that it brings shudders to Hank’s core. He stops moving when his shins tap again Hank’s knees. His hands slither up to cup Hank’s jaw. “Kiss me, Hank.”

The man is quick to comply, surging up to kiss Connor in an instant. They lock lips, the force so hard Connor would have bruised if he could. Hank is the first to bite the android’s lower lip, licking it thereafter as apology for the roughness. Connor mewls between their kiss, granting access to the man who is taking away his simulated breath.

Their tongues chase each other, Connor constantly teasing Hank as his runs whenever Hank’s tongue is close to entwining with his. Finally, Connor allows himself to be caught, sliding their oral muscles along each other, feeling the dorsum textured with taste buds. They kiss, rougher and more desperate than when they first began.

Connor climbs into Hank’s lap all the while, elbows resting on the man’s shoulders as he seats himself. His member bumps against Hank’s, causing them both to moan in synchronization. Pleasure tingles tight within Connor’s groin, spurring him on to bring his fingernails up along Hank’s shoulder blades and back, sure to leave pink trails in their wake.

It is only when Hank’s warm palms smooth up Connor’s waist do they break the kiss.

“Are you ready for your milkshake, Hank?” Connor asks, sweet poison dripping from his words.

He has a devilish glint in his eye, anticipating what Hank will do next when he takes Hank’s hands with his own, guiding them so they sneak inside his shirt. They rub up the expanse of Connor’s taut belly, feeling the bio-skin firm there, until Hank’s fingers curl around two soft, round objects where Connor’s pectorals are.

Hank’s eyes seem to almost bulge out of his head.

“Connor, you-“ He stops when Connor fucking _giggles_.

In one, suave motion, the RK800 model releases Hank’s hands in favor of stripping off his shirt. It falls to the carpet in a crumpled pile, revealing Connor’s new upgrade.

Breasts.

Connor has breasts.

Not just any breasts, but ones that are at least a B cup, full and supple as Hank tests them in his hands. The nipples are the prettiest shade of pink, pert to the touch and prominent enough where the man can put his mouth around them. Hank pinches one out of curiosity, staring as Connor’s nipple dribbles what looks to be milk.

If Hank was a computer, he would be displaying the blue screen of death right now.

“Cat got your tongue, Hank?” Connor says, the inquiry sounding more like a statement than a question. “Come here; they’re begging for you to have a taste.”

Hank, as if hypnotized, slowly brings his face to Connor’s leaking breast, breath tickling the android’s sensors. He looks so aroused, blue eyes hazed over in pure lust as they flick up to meet Connor’s brown ones. Hank takes the nipple into his mouth, never once breaking eye contact as he makes the first suck.

Connor’s body is flooded with sensation, the milkshake solution squirting onto Hank’s tongue as Connor’s dick twitches between his legs. He clutches at Hank’s biceps for purchase, steadying himself when the man suckles at him some more.

“Ah,” A moan escapes unchecked from Connor’s lips. It feels absolutely out of this world. “That’s good, so good,” he says, hips beginning to grind against Hank’s lap so he may relieve some tension in his lower regions.

He smears his thirium-esque precum along Hank’s belly, cock begging for friction. Connor gasps when Hank nibbles at his nipple, a hand coming up to roll the free one between thumb and forefinger. Milks runs from it, wetting the man’s fingertips, sliding down Connor’s impeccably perfect skin.

“Hank, Hank,” Connor whines high in his throat, chest jutting out as he arches his back into Hank’s administrations.

Hank has begun to suck at Connor’s breast instead of drinking from it, drawing in a good mouthful of milkshake mixture before releasing the android’s nipple, the liquid running down Connor’s body and into his lap. He repeats this action several times, swirling his tongue around the areola. His eyes flutter each time his mouth suctions over Connor’s nipple, a show of absolute enjoyment.

Groaning, the android eases his lieutenant off his now-swollen nipple, chuckling at the sight.

“Such a messy eater, now aren’t you?” Connor pets Hank’s unruly hair. “Clean me up, baby. You might get a prize after if you’re good.”

Who is Hank to not oblige?

“Mmm,” he groans as his tongue gets to work in lapping up the spilled treat.

Connor leans back with skilled balance, allowing Hank to clean him up. He hums contently, hips rolling circles over Hank in a pseudo lap dance, his cock making contact with Hank’s own confined one every so often.

When Hank can bend no further to lick the rest of the milkshake, Connor crawls off Hank’s lap to kneel on the carpet.

“Oh, you dirty boy,” he lets the sentence slide from his lips like slick, black oil. “You missed a spot.”

“Sorry,” Hank attempts to say, but is stopped when Connor all but shoves his pants down to release the man’s straining cock.

Hank almost shouts when Connor wraps his mouth around the man’s cock, cheeks hollowing with forceful suction. Human hands immediately knot in Connor’s lusciously brown hair, pulling at it to make Connor moan.

And moan he does; Connor’s eyes rolls back as he feels each pull and tug at his hair and scalp. He loves the feeling, bobbing his head to take more of Hank’s thick girth down his throat. Simulating a gag, Connor allows himself to choke on Hank’s member, swallowing around him. He knows it feels good for Hank, as the man’s hips jerk at the motion.

“Fuck, fuuuck,” Hank curses loud and open, toes curling in their socks.

Connor makes it a point to bury Hank’s cock in his throat, gagging around it as his nose gets a good whiff of Hank’s musky scent at the base of his lieutenant’s thick-as-a-beer-can member. His jaw struggles to fit all of Hank. He closes his eyes, and loses himself to the sensation of choking on Hank’s cock until Hank grabs his face and pulls him off.

“I’ll come if you keep doing that,” Hank growls. He looks so fierce, ready to blow at this rate.

Connor cannot help but feel satisfied at the observation made.

Maneuvering themselves haphazardly, Connor manages to pin Hank down onto the couch cushions with his feet dangling off the couch arm. The TV remote goes skittering on the floor somewhere, but Connor will find it later. Right now, what he wants is Hank’s cock.

He brings three fingers to the lieutenant’s mouth. “Can you be a good boy and get them wet for me, Hank?”

Hank grunts, scrunching up his face before taking Connor’s digits and wetting them with his saliva. Connor relishes in the feel of Hank’s mouth, twisting his fingers so he can get them as wet as possible before he lets them slip out.

Lifting his hips, Connor reaches behind himself, steadying on his feet above Hank’s prostrate figure.

“Connor, what are you doing?” Hank asks, but he gasps when he finally realizes what the android is performing.

“Ohh, Hank,” Connor groans, sinking one, then two, then all three slicked fingers into his hole.

He pulls them out, then pushes them back in, fucking himself open for Hank to see. Though it is unnecessary for him, he enjoys being prepped nonetheless, and loves to watch Hank’s fascinated stare as Connor fucks himself open.

“I want you in me, like this,” Connor says, shoving his fingers inside with the least amount of gentleness. “Oh, it’s going to feel so good,” He shakes his hips a bit when Hank reaches for them, thumbing at the android’s hip bones. “You’ll fuck me until I’m gaping, right?”

With that, Hank moves so fast that it is hard for Connor’s visual processor to register what is happening.

Crashing to the floor, with Connor landing on his side, Hank hurries to lift the android’s leg high into the air, lining his thick cock up with Connor’s entrance.

Then, he sinks in.

And in.

And in, further still.

Connor cries out as he strains to adjust to Hank’s amazing girth. His sphincter struggles to accommodate the length inside of him, tightening at first, then relaxing until Hank can make the first thrust inside.

“Connor,” he moans softly. “Oh god, you okay?”

After a few simulated breaths, Connor nods. “You’re so big,” he whines. “Move, please, move,”

Hank throws back his head and groans in between laughs. The first snap of his hips reverberate through Connor, his moans stuttering at the tail end. It feels amazing; nerve singeing even. In, out, in again; Hank adds more oomph into his thrusts each time. It drives Hank’s cock further into Connor, the push and pull bright burning.

It makes Connor’s system overload with warnings. His vision is going red with the sheer amount of error pop-ups in his peripherals, but he does his best to manually dismiss them, getting lost in the feel of the lieutenant fucking into him. He thinks his leg muscles are spasming, but Connor is not quite sure, unable to diagnose himself at the moment. All he can do is take, take in the feeling of being plowed into by this bear of a man named Hank Anderson.

Connor _loves_ it.

Craves it.

Needs more, until his body gives out.

An electric shock explodes through him when Hank hits something inside of him. Connor screams in pleasure, slapping a hand over his lower abdomen as Hank rails into him with precise, quick strokes. His bio prostate is being pounded, that is no doubt, but what makes his brows raise in surprise is the way Connor’s stomach _bulges_ each time Hank thrust forward.

“Ohh god.” Connor sobs the man’s name like a mantra, “Hank, Hank, I…”

Without warning, he snaps onto the man’s wrist, pulling it to his belly. Hank’s eyes dilate when he feels it, too.

Hank’s cock is so deep, Connor can feel it through his abdomen.

“That’s impossible,” Hank says, though he knows that, with Connor, anything is possible. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Connor is flipped to his back, thighs parted so wide that they are beginning to strain in their sockets. Hank leaves his body for only a second, piledriving back in the moment he can realign with Connor’s tight pucker again. The man keeps his hand over Connor’s belly, feeling himself enter and exit the android’s passage.

The simulated breath is punched out of Connor in short, ragged pants; if he were human, the noises he is emulating would come out in broken syllables.

“More, Hank! Yes,” He claws at the carpet, twisting the short threads in his grasp. “Please, please, I’m so close.”

Hank passes over Connor’s prostate again, adding to the everflowing pleasure within him. He shouts, growing louder each time. He is not going to last long like this. Twisting his hips, Connor impales himself on Hank’s cock, gyrating on Hank as best as he can. He’s about to release. He can feel it in his very core.

But Hank is already pulling out of him, leaving him empty. Connor begins to whine. “Shh, shh,” Hank brings his cock to Connor’s sternum. “Let me come first.” When Connor stills, Hank says, “Hold those pretty things together.”

It takes Connor a moment, but he realizes that the “pretty little things” are his newly installed breasts. With the butts of his palms, Connor places them on each side of them and presses his breasts together. Immediately, his cleavage doubles. He can feel his nipples pebbling as he eyes Hank’s thick cock becomes enveloped by his supple breasts.

“Mmm,” he hums as Hank slides forward, the bulbous tip numbing Connor’s jaw before retreating.

“You’re fucking great, Connor,” Hank grunts. “Look at you… How the hell were you able to hide these from me, under my sleepshirt? Fuck, that’s so sexy. I’m not going to last.”

Connor fights the urge to stop squeezing his breasts together in favor of reaching down and stroking his cock to completion. He opens his mouth as soon as Hank growls primally, the sound ripping from his throat and out into the hot air around them.

He feels Hank’s cock jerk between his soft breasts before thick, hot spurts of the man’s seed land on his nose, his tongue, along his chin and clavicle. Hank rocks back and forth, fucking Connor’s breasts, and riding out his orgasm while decorating Connor’s neck and mouth in splatters of pearlescent cum. Connor moans as he catches what he can on his tongue, closing his mouth and taking Hank’s spend within him. Hank’s sperm count is average today, which makes Connor’s thirium pump flutter with happiness knowing his lieutenant is healthy.

When Hank comes to, Connor releases the hold he has on his breasts and pinches the nipples, finding them already wet with melted milkshake. Had he… squirted while Hank came? More milk leaks from them as he plays with them.

“You’re a fucking wet dream, Connor,” Hank declares, leaning down to lick at Connor’s nipples.

Quickly, Hank sucks more of the milkshake from Connor, gulping it greedily while his large, warm hand wraps around Connor’s angry, neglected dick. Connor’s mind reels as Hank jerks him in firm, strong strokes, head thrashing to and fro on the carpet. His resolve is tearing at the seams, ecstasy bursting like fireworks through his body.

And then it happens; Connor lets out more something that sounds like fuzzy, loud static than an actual cry of release.

Each and every one of his wires feel are branches on a tree that has caught fire, sizzling and popping from the sheer pleasure as he comes. His optics shut down temporarily, leaving him in what Connor’s visuals categorize as dark. However, to Connor himself, it is far from dark. Behind his irises, a myriad of hues and shades paint a beautiful portrait of undefined shapes and patterns. He feels as though he is drowning in the pleasure his nerves continue to fire throughout his body and, if he was not able to compute probability, Connor would have thought he would never resurface.

With a gasp for air, Connor slides his hand through the puddle of cum pooling on his stomach. He had come so hard; Connor’s vision is still lagging. He figures it will do so for another minute before he can do a full diagnostic on himself.

“Are you alright, Connor?” Hank is holding him, Connor pressed snugly to the crook of his neck. “You weren’t responding earlier.”

“I-I’m fine,” Connor replies, a tinny quality in his voice. He must have blacked out sometime during his orgasm. He keeps the little smirk crawling on his lips to himself, hiding it when he looks up at Hank.

Hank, who is gazing at Connor, catches the android’s lips in a kiss, soft and gentle and so needed after their bout of sex.

When they part, the Michigan Wolverines’ have won their match on TV, both team and fans cheering their victory. Connor feels truly comfortable, just lying against Hank while the television blares sports and they both match their breathing to a slower, calmer pace. It is extremely domestic, and wholly something that Connor and Hank both enjoy. Connor could not be happier.

After a while, Connor rouses from his quick diagnostic. There is something on his mind that he must know before his “mission” is deemed accomplished… at least, so his programming is set to say.

“Can I ask you a question, Hank?” he asks.

Hank glances at him once before tightening his arm around his lover. “Shoot,”

He loves the man, Connor thinks, so he must know every detail about him. Unnecessary, but very and fully human, Connor takes a deep breath before he drops the question,

“Did my milkshake bring you to the yard?”

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Leave a kudo. Loved it? Leave a comment.  
> Want to talk to me?  
> I'm @ra9sthiccbicc on twit.


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